The Fire God

Chapter Thirty

Dirk and Aditi set their wedding for Valentine's Day. We all scrunched into the courthouse pew and watched as the judge read the vows, as Aditi and Dirk repeated the words, kissed. I held my infant grandson, while the other two sat between Clarissa and I. After the ceremony, my eldest grandchild solicited me to light my fingers, which I did. I tickled him under the chin with one of the flames made him giggle. Clarissa stood with Aditi, laughed at me with him. She had one hand resting on her stomach.
Syllie offered his mansion for the reception and news crews swamped the place. At first, they tried to interview me, but after a flame barricade, they left me alone.
A tradition Aditi wanted to follow was the father-daughter dance to start the evening. She had the DJ play Katyusha. I was thankful she didn't choose one of her favorite pop songs. Though Russia hadn't always been called Russia, I'd been doing Russian folk dances my whole life. With ease, I led her through a mix of Barynya and Hopak dances, did many kicks, called prisyadka, and spins. The cameras were fixed on us and the applause were deafening. Tiffany was whooping.
Syllie slapped my back after the dance. "A man of many talents, Mricul. You've got to stop holding out on us."
"Dancing won't come in handy when we face a crime lord."
"I don't know," Dirk said, escorting Aditi away. "You could kick 'em."
The hour grew late and the sky was dark. Reed was assisting guests with coats and hats, helping them on their way. When the mansion was left with the usual accoutrement of Syllie, Tiffany, Dirk, Aditi, Mike, Max, Clarissa and myself, Clarissa rose.
First, she made a toast to my daughter and Dirk. Her glass was filled with sparkling white grape juice and she lifted it toward the couple. She ended with, "May Mri stop grumbling over it now." Which roused chortles from the chorus.
Then she turned, surveyed the group.
"Also," she held up her left hand, "Mri and I are engaged."
That brought the lot to their feet and Aditi launched into Clarissa's arms. Syllie assured her he'd bend to any of her whims.
"As long as your wedding isn't more extravagant than mine was, of course," he said, jabbing her in the ribs. To me, with an arm around my shoulder, "You wouldn't want to disappoint her."
"You wouldn't want to blackmail me, Syllie," I said, holding a flame under his chin.
He pulled me in for a tighter grip, compressed me to him. "Yeah, I'd love to." He blew out the flame.
So I made an appearance. The talk show host showed videos from the Renaissance Faire ten years earlier, asked me to demonstrate. So I lit my fingers like little candles.
Clarissa's plans included a big church and millions of flowers, lavish food and guests we'd never met. She pulled out the Renaissance Faire gown, told me she wanted to wear it for the wedding, which surprised me, but I agreed, assured her that my only wish was to please her.
"Since it laces, it'll adjust for the baby," she said. She was sure she was pregnant then. But she worried about looking pregnant on her wedding day.
"You're beautiful," I said and kissed her below her earlobe.
Max was adjusting his goggles, pretending he wasn't surveying us. Syllie had added a camera and microphone to the goggles, since proximity to Tiffany and myself could render him blind. Syllie proclaimed that he'd gotten the idea from the Flash franchise genius, Cisco Ramone.
While Clarissa obsessed over details of our wedding and the decorations, I scrutinized the security of the building. No one was foolish enough to tell me I was being paranoid. In fact, Mike offered to stand at the entrance.
"I want you to be my best man," I said.
Mike was stock-still, his fat lower lip dangling. He put a hand on my shoulder. "That's a great honor. You should reserve it for someone dear to you."
"I don't like people," I said. Which was no secret and hadn't changed since my rebirth. "You and I are kindred spirits."
We actually had a lot in common. Once upon a time, Mike had been a mild mannered accountant. A CPA, whatever that was. I had been a willing participant in my ruination. Mike had been a victim of his. Otherwise, very similar.
"A decade ago, I thought the idea ridiculous, but I now know you to be the only person I want to stand next to me at my wedding."
Mike grabbed my hand, started pumping it. "I'm touched. Really, Mricul. I'm honored."
Time rushed forward. Clarissa complained that she was starting to show. She was forever standing before mirrors and holding her clothes down so she could observe the size of her growing waist. She didn't want anyone to know she was carrying.
"You don't look like you're pregnant. You look like you overdosed on Milkshake Tuesday," I said. Which upset her more.
The morning of the ceremony, Clarissa asked me if I was worried about bad luck, since I'd seen her in the dress before. She was facing the mirror, applying lipstick.
"I don't believe in luck," I said. I was putting on my tie, a long, thin thing in black. But I did have my concerns. That Asperia was so quiet. I wondered over her minions. Truly, we couldn't all be gone.
We took pictures before the wedding. Pictures at the altar, pictures with the cake, pictures kissing in front of the stained glass window.
"Relax," Tiffany said to me. It was the first I noticed how white my knuckles were. I flexed them, tried to ease my mind.
The gang was in the hall, also getting ready, straightening their fabric, checking themselves in the mirror. Aditi was the maid of honor. The rest were to take their seats in the main hall of the church.
Aditi told Dirk how stunning Clarissa was in her gown and Dirk concurred. Dirk was managing the boys while Aditi was heading back to get Clarissa.
Syllie said to Tiffany, "I think Clare's put on weight."
"She has," Tiffany confirmed. She was drawing the swirls of her eye makeup.
"Do you think she's—?"
Max cut in. "I'm her brother. I would know."
Mike was already dressed, his dark skin complemented by the cobalt blue suit. He took me by the arm, led me from the line of our friends getting ready. "Nervous?"
"Yes," I said.
He bobbed his shiny, bald head. "You've got nothing to worry about. Clare is a dream in that dress."
"That's not what I'm worried about," I said.
Others may not have realized what I was referring to, but Mike patted my back. "I'm here. Max isn't going to let anything happen to his sister. And Syllie, Clare's as much a part of this team as the rest of us."
"Really, none of you know Asperia," I said.
But it was time to take our places. Mike and I took our position to the right of the officiator. Mike gave me another pat, nodded to me as I held my arms in front of me. Lohengrin started playing. Clarissa suggested that we should go with Pachelbel's Canon, but it wasn't Mendelssohn's Midsummer Night's Dream, which was apparently heresy. Clarissa still worried about offending the Catholics.
"You're not Catholic, Clarissa."
"I know. But some of my friends are."
"You're marrying a murderer who has spent over three hundred years in an alternate universe. The song is fine."
Aditi came first, a measured step down the aisle, a deep green dress accenting her dark hair and eyes. Clarissa was next. Max was with her, escorting her down the aisle. He was in his classic white suit. Clarissa was my fantasy angel, floating to the front of the church. I scanned for any activity. The tin of salve was too large to obscure in my jacket, so I'd filled a coffer, hoped it would be enough.
Max turned Clarissa over to me and the preacher began. Clarissa was giddy and giggling and it made me laugh. We said our vows. I kissed the bride, chuckled a little. The preacher really said, "Husband and wife." It couldn't be that easy. But the preacher introduced us, "I present to you Mricul and Clarissa Rahal."
I was stunned and happy. I kissed her again. Zing. My mind wandered to Asperia. She couldn't be dead. Alone perhaps. I had been gone long enough for her to drain all her resources.
We rushed down the aisle together and the guests threw bird seed at us. We rejoined at Syllie's mansion for the reception. Sumptuous snacks were on every tray and a buffet of food awaited. Clarissa kissed me several times. We posed for more photos. From our photographer as well as guests and reporters.
Mike leaned to me. "Rahal?"
"What of it?"
"Nothing, man. Up until that minute, I didn't know you had a last name."
A moment of quiet. I thought of Mu, missed her, wished Diana had agreed to be here, though we communicated with the unicorn horn.
I drew out the conical shaped thing. It did more than facilitate communication. I pressed it to Clarissa's stomach. The doctor had asked us if we wanted to know the sex of our child at the last ultrasound. I'd said no. Clarissa acquiesced to my wishes. I saw the signs, that she was carrying low, that she retained her beauty.
"What are you doing?"
"It's stupid," I said. I was taken by my own joy. "I didn't want to know what we were having until I was sure you were safe." I whispered to her, "You're carrying a son."
More flashes and an eruption of chatter. It wasn't exactly a rushed wedding, but no one would believe I'd impregnated her after our nuptials.
Dirk, Syllie and Tiffany came up to me, each shook my hand. Aditi had Clarissa, was hugging her. Dirk was giving me pointers. I was in such a good mood, I let him. Max was standing with a hand over his mouth. I blushed, avoided making eye contact with his goggles.
That was when it happened. A spray of dragon talons glinted through the air and sank deep into Clarissa's body. I ripped away from my friends. Max caught Clarissa before she hit the floor.
Max screamed, "I've got her. You go after him."
I should have recognized him. The jealous one from the Yukon dig. So Asperia still had him around. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I couldn't run fast enough. He slipped around a corner. When I followed, he confronted me with an ax. One hit to the skull, another to the throat, but not enough. My head was still attached. I was woozy, holding myself against the brick wall.
The Three had all been well-practiced in beheading opponents. I was able to chop off a head with a single strike. The dragon blade, the right angle. That maniac had struck a blow, but he was an unpracticed fledgeling. I held my neck, the muscle fibers, the gushing blood. Steps echoed down the alley.
I felt for the coffer in my pocket, slathered all of it on my neck. Though my face was gashed, I was more concerned about head toppling off. I couldn't pursue him with my muscles torn like that. I ripped my shirt to shreds, wrapped my throat in the cotton. I took several steps before I could clear my head, forced myself to pick up the pace.
The San Francisco streets were littered with odors, mostly sour food. The scent of the dragon is faint on ordinary immortals, but that was the most unique scent on him. I focused, made my strides long, but slow. Had to concentrate on the distant stench, not my own blood that was overwhelming me. I staggered up the steps of the office building, getting bloody palm prints on the walls, trying to steady myself. On the top floor, a penthouse fit for a queen had been constructed. Artists including Renoir, Monet and Cezanne covered the halls. Mu had been an adept forgery artist at one time. These may have been her work. Or perhaps Asperia had procured the originals. I didn't care that much.
The door wasn't latched. I collapsed against the wall, then pushed myself up again. The stink of death was rolling thickly into the hall. I pushed the bit of wood open. Asperia was sitting on a divan, her gaze fixed on the wall. She was old, crinkled skin, thin as tissue, colorless lips. Her skin had been bronze once, but it was dull and her hair was entirely white. She didn't disguise her gashed forehead or her scarred throat. I stepped over the body of her last boy toy, fell onto the cushion next to her.
"I told him not to hurt you," she said of the headless carcass on the floor.
I kept one hand on me throat, but the other I put around her, let her lean against me. She pressed her forehead to my shoulder.
"We should have never killed Augustus."
"I know," I said.
"Our life in Rome was perfect," she said. Her fingers were over my heart. "We had everything, wealth, each other, a home. I was adored at parties. So I had to tolerate the bore from time to time. The ridiculous pig grunting into me. Truly awful."
It brought a snicker out of me.
"He was old. We should have waited."
"You're right."
Tears were gathered in the corners of her eyes, but she was silent.
The building was dirty. Even without the carcass, it would have smelled of urine and sweat. The building was drab compared to our palaces in Rome. It was only four walls, a square room. We always had decorations on our columns in Rome. At the end, we had composite columns. If we didn't have stone carvings of flowers at the top of a column, we would at least have scroll work.
"Your beautiful face." Her fingers moved to my neck. I kissed her cheek.
"Every ounce of my body aches," she said. "Ignatio gave me his blood, but it didn't help. Draining every last drop from my precious boys only helped for a few months, maybe a couple of years."
I pushed the white hair out of her eyes, got blood on her forehead.
Her crinkled skin was damp. "Pretending only makes it worse."
"Let it go, Asperia," I said, opening my arms to her.
"I don't want to die," she sobbed.
"I know," I said, holding her to my chest. "But it's just like sleeping. You won't wake up. You won't suffer or be in pain. I wouldn't do that to you."
"I'm sorry I hurt you. I did it because I loved you." She was choking on her wails. Her fingers were clasping the lapels of what remained of my shirt. "Truly, ironically and horribly. I sit and think about it over and over, but you were the only one I ever truly loved."
"I know." Tears were covering my face as well. I let the warmth come slowly, so it would be comforting, gentle, brought the heat up. When the sear started to wake her, I blasted it, so she wouldn't know. Then I sat on the divan and sobbed.